Part 68 (1/2)
R O B E R T G O D D A R D.
”It would not, to you. But you are less than half my age. When you are as old as I am, you will understand that how we are to be remembered is the only thing that really matters.”
”And how are you to be remembered?”
”As a relic of bygone values. As a hard but honourable man. Not as a thief or a murderer. Not as a traitor or a torturer. Not now I have this.” He patted the envelope and smiled faintly. ”You are thinking I was all those things, are you not? And you are right. But now you will never be able to prove it. n.o.body will.”
Suddenly angered by his complacency, Derek said: ”So much for your reputation. What about your conscience?”
”I do not have one. I lost it, along with my right hand, in the service of my country. When I sided with the insurrectionists in July 1936, I did so because I thought they would win. Others fought for their beliefs. We all lost. But I only lost a fortune in gold. They lost everything.” His gaze drifted past Derek, towards the Land Rover and the figure standing beside it. ”Who is your companion, Mr Fairfax?”
”He served with Ortiz in the International Brigade.”
”Ah. I might have guessed.”
”Ortiz saved his life during the retreat from Teruel by giving himself up. He didn't know until recently what happened to Ortiz.
But now he does.”
Delgado's mouth set in a stern line. ”It would have been better for him to go on not knowing. Better by far.”
For a moment, Derek was tempted to ask exactly how Ortiz had died. Delgado knew. He had been responsible. He had given the orders and watched while they were carried out. Perhaps he had even- But no. Derek would not ask. If he did, he might be told. And if he knew, how could he pretend to Frank that he did not? Ignorance was in the end their only salvation.
As if reading his thoughts, Delgado said: ”Tell him this for me, Mr Fairfax. Ortiz died knowing he had lost everything. And yet he knew also he had won. I did not realize it at the time, of course. But, as the years pa.s.sed, the havoc his secret would wreak in my life, if it were ever known, grew and grew, till it was a stormcloud large and dark enough to blot out all my achievements. That was his victory. He saw it at the end. He knew what it would mean. He understood. And, later, so did I.”
”Is that supposed to . . . to excuse what you did?”
H A N D I N G L O V E.
415.
”No. We are not here to offer or grant excuses. We are here to honour a bargain-and to end my conflict with the family of Tristram Abberley. I have what I came for. And you shall have the same.” He turned and waved stiffly with his right hand.
As Derek watched, Galazarga led Samantha clear of the two vehicles, holding her by the elbow. When they reached a bollard at the end of the bridge, he released her and she started forward hesitantly, then began to hurry, walking clumsily, as if short of practice. She looked haggard and distraught, her hair matted and dirty, her clothes creased and worn. Her eyes were wide and staring, her cheeks hollow, her lips parted in exhaustion and disbelief.
”You need fear no tricks or surprises, Mr Fairfax. Norberto would not dare to disobey me to my face. Take the girl back to her mother. It is time, I think, for us all to go home.”
”Sam?” said Derek, stepping into her path for fear she would otherwise walk straight past.
She pulled up. ”Yes. I'm Sam. Who . . . Who are you?”
”A friend of Charlotte's.”
She frowned. ”Don't I . . . Aren't you . . .”
”We met once. But that doesn't matter. Just carry on to the Land Rover. Another friend is waiting for you there. I'll follow.”
”All right.”
As she walked on, Derek glanced round at Delgado. But he had already turned and started back towards the other side of the bridge, where Galazarga stood waiting for him, his face icily expressionless.
Soon, Derek would be alone on this narrow way across the water, this transitory meeting-point of half a dozen destinies. Delgado's secret was safe. But so was the gold. n.o.body had won. Unless it was Beatrix.
Only she had consistently wanted an end to the greeds and grudges of fifty years ago. And now she had had her way. It really was, as Delgado had said, time to go home. Eagerly, Derek swung on his heel and began to retrace his steps.
CHAPTER.
TWENTY-FOUR.
Miller and Golding had evidently changed their minds by Sat.u.r.day morning. After a largely sleepless night in a cell at Newbury Police Station, Charlotte was released without explanation immediately after breakfast. She was driven back to Tunbridge Wells in a panda car, monitoring on her wrist.w.a.tch the gradual approach of nine o'clock while heading east along the M25.
What was happening in Galicia she could only imagine. She knew, moreover, that she would have to go on only imagining until definite news reached her. A visit or telephone call to Colin Fairfax at this stage could be just the mistake her release was intended to provoke.
In such circ.u.mstances, her return to Ockham House was merely the exchange of one kind of cell for another. She could go nowhere in case word came while she was out. She could speak to n.o.body for fear of betraying herself. And she could think of nothing beyond all the reasons why Frank's plan might have miscarried, why he and Derek, especially Derek, might, thanks to her, be in mortal danger.
An hour of such agonizing made confinement unbearable. Leaving the French windows open to ensure she would hear the telephone if it rang, she walked out on to the lawn, where the autumn leaves had fallen thick and fast during the past distracted week. She remembered the hot day in June when the family had a.s.sembled there after Beatrix's funeral and Derek had burst in on them, levelling accusations they had all agreed were absurd. The only absurdity apparent to her now was their collective ignorance, their mutual unawareness of what the future held. It was not yet four months ago, but seemed in other ways as distant as her own childhood, when they had played French cricket on this same lawn, her father winking as he tossed the tennis ball towards her and Maurice smirking as he crouched by the holly-bush, preparing to catch her out. ”Hit it this way, Charlie. Go on. You can-”
Suddenly, a car appeared up the drive, moving fast enough to throw a shower of gravel on to the lawn when it braked to a halt. It H A N D I N G L O V E.
417.
was a large rust-pocked old Jaguar, similar to a model Charlotte's father had once owned. Colin Fairfax climbed out, grinning from ear to ear.
”What is it?” Charlotte cried.
”Good news.”
”Really?”
”The best.” He lowered his voice as she approached. ”Derek rang me from a bar in Castro Caldelas about twenty minutes ago. I thought I'd come straight over in case you'd been released, which I'm glad to see you have. Well, so has your niece. Everything went according to plan. She's with Derek-safe and sound.”
”Oh, thank G.o.d.” Impulsively, Charlotte leant up and kissed him.
For a moment, the car, his smile and her sudden elation made it seem as if her father had arrived home from work, armed as he often was with a present for her. ”And thank you, Colin. Without you, it wouldn't have been possible.”
”True.” His smile broadened. ”But, after what I've been through recently, pulling the wool over the old bill's eyes was a real pleasure.”
”What you've been through is the fault of my family-the family you've just placed hugely in your debt.”
”Freedom must be making me generous. How about a drink to celebrate?”
”Certainly. Come inside.”
It was over now. The uncertainty. The misery. The suffering Maurice had caused to one and all by meddling in matters he did not understand. Life could begin again, on a note not of triumph over the past but of liberation from it. Laughing at the simple joy of it, Charlotte led the way towards the house. There she poured Colin a large scotch and herself a scarcely smaller gin to toast the success of their strange and fleeting alliance.